


Of Scars and Freckles

by MelissaSz89



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel in the Bunker, Dean watches Dr. Sexy, Declarations Of Love, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker, SO MUCH FLUFF, The Winchester way, because you know, cas loves dean's freckles, good things do happen to you Dean, human!Cas, it's Dean Winchester, with a little bit of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-30
Updated: 2014-11-30
Packaged: 2018-02-27 14:08:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2695856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelissaSz89/pseuds/MelissaSz89
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the morning after their first night together, Dean deals with the emotional aftermath of letting Cas see him laid bare in more than one sense. Meanwhile, Cas is apparently very distracted by Dean's freckles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Scars and Freckles

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a small drabble with maybe 200-300 words. Then Dean started reminiscing and drowning in feels, and it somehow got out of hand. Another proof that Dean Winchester has taken over my life, I guess.
> 
> This story isn't set at any certain point of the show. Though in my head, it's placed in the future, where Dean, Cas and Sammy finally find some peace and happiness. No spoilers here.
> 
> Enjoy :)

  
_“It's so hard to forget pain, but it's even harder to remember sweetness.  
We have no scar to show for happiness. We learn so little from peace.”_  
\--- Chuck Palahniuk, Diary

Dean stirs slowly, when he feels something warm and solid drape itself across his chest.

Vaguely he wonders about the fact that his first instinct isn't to grab for the gun on his bedside table or the knife under his pillow, but he feels too lazy and _save_ to contemplate it further. Sleep is dragging him almost back into that sweet dream he just had about a certain ex-angel and certain activities which are definitely _not_ angelic. 

But then the source of all that warmth shifts against him and Dean tenses when he feels a hand sliding across his naked stomach to settle on his hip.

"It's just me, Dean." The hushed reassurance is spoken in a rough voice Dean knows all too well and for a few seconds he remains caught up in that confusing state between sleep and awareness. 

Cas. In his bed. Just like in his dream. Only, it's not a dream. The memories of last night come flooding back slowly, pushing the images of his dream back into his subconsciousness. Reality is so much better anyway, than any dream he ever had about finally being able to touch Cas the way he wanted to for so long.

So instead of reacting to Cas' words, Dean takes a selfish and glorious moment to dwell in the memories of last night. It had been a quiet evening, no hunts or jobs waiting for them, and Dean had declared that Cas finally needed to get acquainted with Dr. Sexy. 

Some time during the second episode, Dean found himself gazing far more often at Cas instead of the TV. Cas was sitting next to him, occasionally shifting a little on the couch, but otherwise completely engrossed in the show, as if it could offer the solution to all his problems. 

Dean was slightly mystified by Cas' undivided attention to the screen. Don't get him wrong, Dr. Sexy was still his favourite show - even if he wouldn't admit that to Sam under any kind of torture he could think of - but Dean could also admit that the reason why he liked it so much was the triviality of it. It was a nice change to loose himself in this world and not be forced to think about anything else than which nurse or patient would be caught in the storage room with Dr. Sexy this time around.

After they started the third episode and Cas still hadn't lifted his eyes from the screen once, Dean just had to say something. "Dude, what's up with the intense staring? I'm not even digging the cowboy boots as hard as you do."

It was the wrong thing to do - or in retrospect, _the best thing ever_ , Dean's mind helpfully supplies - to draw Cas' attention away from the TV. Even after years of having that unwavering and compelling stare directed at himself, there were still moments where Dean found himself completely unprepared for the mass of feelings it stirred inside him. This was one of those moments.

And even while he struggled to find his bearings, Cas replied earnestly, "It's important to you."

That was all. All the reason Cas needed. 

All the reason Dean had apparently needed to lean into Cas' personal space until their lips brushed in a barely-there kiss. Dean froze immediately, his heart beating wildly, while his head filled with quite some colourful words directed at himself and his poor impulse control.

"Cas, I -" He trailed off, not knowing how to cover up his mistake. 

"Dean." A shiver ran down his spine at the sound of his name uttered in that deep, gravely voice and the puff of air against his lips, as Cas spoke. They were still too close. All thoughts of moving away however dissolved into nothingness, when Cas added, " _You_ are important to me."

And maybe Dean was truly going round the bend this time and becoming delusional, because he swore that he could almost hear the unspoken declaration of love behind those words. Something about them reminded him of the way he had told Cas that he needed him, so many times before. The way those three words had been all that he could offer, even though there was so much more he wanted to say. 

He can't quite figure out who moved first after that to initiate the next kiss, but Dean can definitely remember everything that followed. 

Slow and unhurried kisses on the couch, as they cautiously breached that intimate barrier in their relationship. The low groan Cas released, when Dean pulled him close so that there was no space between them left. The heady spike of arousal as Cas pushed him flat down on the couch and the sudden heat and urgency in his kiss.

Dean was in the process of removing Cas' sweater, which was quite a struggle because Cas wouldn't lift himself up from Dean's body in the slightest for even a second, when he heard a moan which was clearly not coming from either of them.

Reality came rushing back at the sound and Dean let out a panicked chuckle, which made Cas pause in his actions. Dean shifted under him and reached over to the coffee table to grab the remote and turn off the TV, where Dr. Sexy was currently pressing one of the nurses against a shelf in the storage room. He refused to acknowledge the way his hand trembled when he pointed the remote at the TV or the way his breath hitched when Cas pressed down even closer, as if afraid that Dean would get up and disappear now that the moment was broken.

Which wasn't entirely out of the realm of possibility. His body tensed in a familiar sensation of vigilance, as all possible doubts about this turn of events flooded his brain. 

But then Cas reached out and grabbed Dean's outstretched hand in a firm grip and pushed it down against the cushion under Dean's head. His other hand moved down from its place buried in Dean's short hair, down his neck, to his left shoulder to squeeze tightly. Dean felt himself drowning in the sensation and the memory of Cas' hand print on his skin, and to his own surprise his body relaxed under Cas as if the invisible strings pulling him taut were effectively cut.

After that they stumbled to Dean's bedroom, barely able to stop touching each other long enough to avoid running into any walls or doors. As they passed Sam's room, Dean spared a small grateful thought that his brother had left the bunker earlier, when Dean had announced - or in Sam's words, threatened him with - his plan to have a Dr. Sexy marathon.

All thoughts of his brother were quickly wiped from his mind, as they finally tumbled onto Dean's bed, once again with Cas on top of him. By this point Dean was getting desperate to feel some of Cas' skin against his own and was about to pull that damn sweater off at last, when Cas' lips found his again and his tongue slipped out to conquer Dean's into submission, while his hands pulled and grasped and stroked every part of Dean they could reach.

Dean was lost in the sensations until he was suddenly lying there naked, laid bare to those unwavering blue eyes, which seemed to take in far more than just Dean's partially scarred skin. It seemed unfair, and slightly terrifying, that Cas was still completely clothed, while he was sitting astride Dean's naked thighs, completely still and just _looking_. 

He managed about five seconds of this, before his hands clawed into fists against the sheets, to keep himself from pushing Cas off of him. This was too much. He couldn't... 

When Cas moved again it was to pull off his own sweater and the shirt he was wearing underneath in one swift motion. Dean's eyes were immediately drawn to a slightly raised scar, about six inches below Cas' right nipple and he felt himself relax again all at once. Instantly though, he felt shame rising inside of him at the fact that seeing this evidence of Cas' irrevocable loss of his grace caused him any kind of comfort.

It wasn't right. Cas had sacrificed too much over the years in order to help Dean against everything life threw at him. His grace shouldn't have been one of those things. But knowing that Cas was now human, knowing that it was Cas' conscious decision to stay with him instead of returning to heaven, meant more to him than he could ever express.

He let go of the sheets in favour of pulling Cas down against him, his whole body shuddering in pleasure at the feeling of all that heated and sensitive skin against his own. Cas rested his forehead against his and there was a definite hitch in his breath, as Dean stroked down the length of his back with one hand.

"I need you," he whispered against Cas' mouth, and he prayed, now more than ever before, that Cas would hear the many unspoken things behind those words.

Cas' gaze never left his eyes, while his hand cupped Dean's left cheek in a gentle hold. The tight feeling inside Dean's chest became stronger again, but this time he resisted the urge to tense up in apprehension. It wasn't often that anyone has ever touched him with so much care and tenderness, and dare he think _reverence_ , and it stirred every feeling of unworthiness and self-loathing which was still festered at the core of his very being. 

"Cas..." There was a pleading note in his voice, even though he wasn't sure what he was asking for. For Cas to stop, or for him to _never_ stop looking at him and touching him that way.

Through the rest of the night however, Dean slowly started to realise and admit to himself that the second option was - despite it's occasional heart-stopping scariness - the only one he could accept. Now that he had seen and felt those last barriers between them fall, he couldn't imagine living without the intensity of Cas' undivided and unrestrained affection. If the way it sometimes made his breath stutter in some kind of almost-pain was his penance for every wrong thing he had done in his life, then he would learn to deal with it. It seemed like a ( _too_ ) small price to pay in comparison to what he gained.

He resurfaces from his memories slowly, as he feels Cas trailing soft kisses against his collarbone. "What are you doing?" he mumbles, with his eyes still closed, unwilling to jerk himself out of the still dream-like quality of his consciousness.

"I'm kissing you," comes the soft reply, whispered into his shoulder. Warm breath ghosts along his neck and Dean shivers at the sensation.

"Yeah, I noticed," he replies wryly, but without any bite. He's still too comfortable to get truly irritated at having his sleep interrupted. Besides, he doubts he can find it in himself to ever actually complain about being kissed by Cas. A smile tugs at his lips as the thought that this is indeed real and not just a silly dream, once more flitters across his mind.

But it's still early, Dean can tell, and after the long hours they spent awake last night, he can definitely indulge in a few more hours of rest. "Cas, go back to sleep," he orders, rather half-heartedly, when he feels Cas' lips press a kiss just under his left nipple.

Cas' hair tickles against Dean's chest, as he shakes his head. "No. I haven't caught all of them yet."

Dean can only utter a bewildered noise. "Huh?"

"Your freckles," is the only response he gets between two kisses to his sternum.

At that, Dean finally opens his eyes and looks down at the messy mop of dark hair right under his chin. Cas lifts his head at the same time and Dean's exasperated comment, which has only been half formed in his own mind anyway, gets stuck in his throat when their gazes meet.

There it is again. The tightness in his chest, around his heart, along with a feeling of elation and happiness he has never experienced before.

Dean sighs in defeat and closes his eyes again, while Cas goes back to covering what seems like his entire chest in butterfly kisses, even though Dean is pretty sure that he doesn't have _that_ many freckles littered across his skin.

"You know... I have freckles in other places as well," he quips, not caring in the slightest about the lameness of his flirtation. Certain parts of his body are also slowly but surely rising up from sleep by now and since Cas is the cause for his interrupted rest, Dean considers it only fair to make him aware of it.

There is a moment of stillness, then Cas' body twitches into motion. Dean grins lazily to himself, but startles when he realizes that Cas doesn't move downwards. Instead he levers himself up over Dean and presses an overly loud smooching kiss to the tip of Dean's nose.

"What the-" Dean gasps in embarrassment at the cheesy action and nearly smashes his forehead against Cas' nose when he jerks upright.

Irritated he glares at Cas, but all his awkward annoyance leaves him again within a single second, when he sees Cas' barely restrained smile. He doesn't know how he must look right at this moment, but from the way Cas bursts out laughing at the sight of him, he figures he must resemble something like a startled fish right now.

He doesn't care in the slightest however, because in all the years that Dean has known him, he has never seen Cas laugh like this.

He trails his hand up Cas' side to the small scar on his chest, feeling the vibrations of Cas' joyful laughter against his fingertips, and thinks that for the first time that he can remember - and even if it's just for a fleeting moment - he's completely at peace with himself and the world.

THE END


End file.
